


The Enigma and the Axiom

by SHSLHope



Series: The New World [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, D&D prompt, Fantasy, Multi, Original work - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSLHope/pseuds/SHSLHope
Summary: "This world may ruin you. That is, if you don't ruin it first."Fantasy AU. In a world full of chaos, distrust and danger, good will stand up against evil. But in Althaea's world, nothing is quite what it seems.*SUMMARY WILL BE UPDATED. ORIGINAL WORK*





	

Prologue

To Unknown, February 19th.

Stories are strange, confounding things. They are strange because somehow, in one way or another, they end up collections of your own experiences, beliefs, practices. When a story is told, you suddenly understand a little more about its author, its characters, the world it reflects. Whether it be fiction or non-fiction, stories dwell deep within the realms of psychology, offer relics of the past and, perhaps above all else, a way to understand the world around you. A mechanism. A strategy.

I must be waxing philosophical here. I’m sorry; I never know how to start these things anymore. I should have started writing with a clear mind, then this would have worked out better, more organised. I just needed to write this down to someone – anyone – and I hope this somehow reaches you. 

If anyone knew I was writing to you, they would ask me why. Because you probably don’t even know who I am… That’s fine. That’s how I wanted things to be, anyway. Of course I have regrets. It was hard for me. It was hard for you, as well, until we came here and – 

Well. You always used to tell me that there was no point dwelling on the past. I’m trying, I really am. But I can’t let the past go; it’s hard. I know how destructive that is, believe me, and I guess that is part of the reason why I did what I did. I hope, if you do discover the one of the many causes of my shame, that you will find it in your heart to forgive me. You were always a kind-hearted soul, in your own little way; the kindest I have ever known. But I also hope you realise that, at least in my mind, my actions were completely justified.  
Dreams, you see, are not meant to die. Not mine, nor yours. People deserve happiness and most people decide to abandon this just because they do not have faith in themselves to make their dreams a reality; they do not believe they have a capacity to go out of their way. I am not one of those people. 

I remember when you used to stay outside all day, up in the tallest tree in the garden, bare-footed with your legs swinging wildly in the air, hitting the leaves, without a care in the world. You always had a book in your hands and wouldn’t come inside for hours; you wouldn’t come inside until you were forced to by the sunset. I admired this stubbornness of yours, the desire for your own freedom. Autonomy was your fundamental principle and also your biggest vice. I desire you not to begrudge me for admitting this, although, really, I think you would smile if you knew that I had finally learnt to be honest, to not always please others. “Pleasing yourself is the most important thing.” You always used to say. We all used to scorn you and occasionally laugh your words off, dismissing it as a sign of “immaturity”, your “inexperience”; the truth is that you have always been more mature than I have ever been. 

Even as I write this, I cannot help letting a tear escape my eye, because I know that you will have to take my word for this; you may not even believe me. That’s understandable. I wouldn’t believe myself if I were in your situation. But I’m begging you; you must.

There is not a day that goes by when I do not think of you. I continuously wonder: how are you doing? Are you happy? Goodness, nothing, I doubt, would make me happier than your well-being. If you are well, then that makes my actions worthwhile. 

How I wish I could write to you daily and speak to you normally. In an ideal world, we would be normal, like everybody else. But this is the one and only time I can write to you. Perhaps, if you get this letter, I can confess to you. It hurts me to lie, especially to you.

Maybe, hopefully, I can finally tell you my story. 

I must go. I am forced to hurry on by my sworn enemy, Time. Once we are out of danger. I will find you. I have decided that I owe at least that to you.

What am I doing? This probably makes little sense to you. That’s another thing I will do; I’ll explain everything I can, once this is all over.

I miss you dearly and love you twice as much. Whatever happens to me, please remember that. 

With love and affection from all my heart and soul or else I am not the

Countess of Aramoor.


End file.
